The Touch of Your Hand
by VespertineFlora
Summary: For Izaya, there's only ever been Shizuo. Shizaya, reflection


It starts with a kiss, but only a brief one, leaving his lips longing for more. Shizuo's mouth and fingers ghost across his skin so delicately that it's almost unreal and Izaya moans softly as he relishes the soft touches.

Izaya shivers and Shizuo presses his body against him more firmly. His fingertips trace down his chest where they settle on a nipple and pinch. The nipple hardens, Izaya keens, and his chest arches into the touch. Already, his erection throbs softly, but is ignored, the fingers instead lingering on the firm bud of flesh on his chest, twisting and tugging, working Izaya's breathing into a needy pace, making him let out a long, slow whimper, before Izaya can imagine the victorious grin on Shizuo's face.

Satisfied with his arousal, his hands move again and trace slowly down Izaya's stomach. For another moment, his fingers draw teasing circles around Izaya's naval. Izaya huffs softly and his hips squirm; the hand finally decides to move lower, tracing over his hip bone, running over his thigh, then tracing his fingers back up the inside of his thigh as Izaya remains completely breathless.

Finally, his hand wraps around his erection and Izaya stiffens, releases a tense moan. As the hand moves, stroking slowly up and down, Izaya grips the sheets lightly. His breathing rate falls in line with the quickness of the strokes as the contact sends waves of pleasure pumping through his veins, as hot and overwhelming as molten lava.

The contact doesn't last though and Izaya's body shudders as the hand releases him. He hears the faint snap of a plastic lid opening, then closing, and he knows what's coming. He spreads his legs, bending them at the knee to angle his hips upward and just a few seconds later, there's a finger pressing at his entrance, then pressing inside and wiggling around—Izaya resists the natural urge to tense at the feeling—before pulling back and immediately inserting a second one, which makes him gasp.

He's grateful though. He's already aching, so he doesn't need Shizuo to take his time.

After just a few quick pumps, the last involving his fingers raking deliciously forward, the fingers are gone and instead something thick and hard is pushing at his entrance. Izaya's hips roll towards it and he makes a soft breathy sound at the arousal and the anticipation that is flushing his face and making his heart hammer against his ribcage.

And then Shizuo slowly pushes inside. Izaya's eyes squeeze shut and he clenches the sheets harder, still getting used to the feeling of being filled like this. His hips shift as he adjusts and there's a pause in motion for him to relax. A moment later, he pulls out, then pushes back in a little faster, then again, and again, and soon he works up a steady pace.

The thrusts already having him panting hard, his mouth growing dry as he tries to quell the dizziness caused by the insane amount of pleasure coursing through him, but then the angle of the thrusts changes and Shizuo thrusts right into his prostate—Izaya cries out at the change, the sheets twisting in his hand as his head rolls back. He tries not to rock his hips, not wanting to disrupt the growlingly frantic pace of the thrusts. Soon, precum beads at the head of Izaya's erection and the pace and force of the thrusts increases to meet his steadily more urgent need.

Izaya can't take it for much longer and he's suddenly gripped by orgasm. His entire body jerks and then tenses as he comes, crying out his lover's name roughly.

But after he comes, Izaya is alone. There is no warm, exhausted body collapsing on top of him, no heart beating against his, no arms around him, no mouth laying loving kisses along his neck. His is the only sound of heavy breathing in the empty room.

Immediately exhausted, Izaya's body relaxes, limp, on his bed. The room is suddenly quite cold.

Izaya shudders as he pulls out the glass toy and reaches for a few tissues from the bedside table. He's tired and just wants to fall asleep now, but he's made a mess and without anyone's anchoring warmth to blame it on, he has no excuse not to at least clean up first.

He wipes clean the toy, dropping it to the floor near the bed to clean properly the next morning and next wipes his stomach and chest clean. The soiled tissues are dropped in the wastebasket next to his bed, and Izaya rolls onto his side as he pulls the covers around himself, trying to shut out the particularly unpleasant thoughts he can feel trying to make their way in.

Like how pathetic it is to cry out the name of someone who isn't there. Or perhaps more so that it's pathetic because Shizuo will never be there. Every night, Izaya lives out a fantasy that, even in its tamest moments, is strictly impossible. Shizuo will never hold him, kiss him… he will never make love to him.

Izaya knows it's a fantasy, but he can't find release without it. He hasn't been able to think of anyone else for years and long ago he stopped trying. Shizuo is the only one Izaya wants. It's Shizuo he wants to look at him, acknowledge him, and it's Shizuo's attention that he wants to keep. It's Shizuo that he wants to feel touching his body with strong hands, it's Shizuo he wants to feel inside of him, driving him over the edge. Shizuo, and only Shizuo.

And it's Shizuo that he'll never have, no matter how many times he cries out the man's name to an empty room, looking for a response that he knows will never come.

He squeezes his eyes closed and swallows hard as he wraps the blankets around himself tighter, hoping the cocoon can ward away the truth. He's not sure if imagining Shizuo's arms wrapped around him makes the pain in his chest better or worse, but after just a few moments of debate, the weariness from his orgasm sets in, and he falls asleep pretending, even if for just a moment, that maybe someday he'll be happy.


End file.
